Providence
by Krissy Mae Anderson
Summary: AU – ER meets the Napoleonic Wars. It has everything you could wish for - Abby in a corset, Luka in a uniform, love, war, apple tarts...
1. Encounter

_"Providence" by VjeraNadaLjubav_

**Summary:** AU – ER meets the Napoleonic Wars. It has everything you could wish for - Abby in a corset, Luka in a uniform, love, war, apple tarts...  
**Rating:** PG-13 for the foreseeable future, just in case.  
**Disclaimer:** All the ER characters that you can recognize are not mine. The Napoleonic Wars don't belong to me as well.   
**Acknowledgements:** To wizened cynic, SheDevil, kenderbender and NaomiP, who have encouraged me to get off my ass and write already. And for this chappie, a big think you to NaomiP, who pointed out a huge plothole...  
**Author's note:** Welcome to yet another of VNL's never-ending serial stories. This is my first real AU – I've always been interested in the Napoleonic wars period, and one day my brain said to me: "Why don't you put ER characters into the early 19th century and see what will happen?" I decided to listen to it and attempt to write a story. Hopefully, this will be a longer story, but with my posting habits, who knows when I will end it…   
**A note on historical and other accuracy: **To accommodate most ER characters into the plot, some (many) historical liberties had to be taken by yours truly and poetic license was generously applied, so only a basic degree of historical accuracy should be expected – mostly major battles and such. It won't be "War and Peace," that's for sure, and the language I use will be decidedly modern. I attempted to do at least some research, which is somewhat hard at the moment, since I currently am in the midst of my 100 pages of B.A. thesis, am studying Arabic 20 hours a week, and have neither regular access to the internet nor a working floppy drive, so time/history/geography inconsistencies will definitely happen.   
**One more author's note:** Feel free to point out any terrible (and not so terrible) mistakes in the reviews. After a couple of chapters are written and more of the plot is unveiled, any good suggestions for future plots (by e-mail or review, if you are not a member of ff.net) will be welcomed, considered and perhaps used with the credit to the one who suggested the plot – these reviewers will have a chance to guest-star in a chapter. Anyways, have fun reading and let me know what you think.

Chapter One – "Encounter"

_Atlantic Ocean, 133 miles west of Liverpool, June 4, 1805_

The sea wind was strong and fresh, and the young woman on the deck of the ship felt somehow inspired by it, as if it was giving her a new hope. She closed her eyes and thought of the last time she felt that wind on her face. It seemed to have been the day before instead of fifteen years she knew had passed since she last traveled across the ocean. She was a child then, and now she knew and understood much more of the world then the awestruck young girl she had been when she first came to America. Everything had been so easy then – their mother thought she was bringing them to a better place, taking them away from the town she would forever associate with the death of her husband. It had perhaps been a good decision. They had lived well, in fact still were living quite comfortably – the wealth they brought with them had been well managed by their banker. But her mother was not well, and the move to the hot shores of Georgia did not improve her health. She remembered that when she was a child, her mother used to have fits of hysteria, and the move made them occur more often. Countess Magdalena, or Maggie, as she was called by her friends, was the central figure in Savannah's social circles when she was well, but when her illness overtook her she would do scandalous things, and bring embarrassment to her two children. She thought she could escape the house, and with it her mother's illness, by marrying the dashing Richard Lockhart, the man who was considered a very good match by any young woman of high standing in Savannah. The marriage seemed to solve the problem for a while, but she had recently discovered that Lockhart had taken to visiting a house of an unmarried woman of ill repute and divorced him. And now, her dear young brother Eryk seemed to have developed the same illness as her mother and had departed the United States, heading for the turbulent shores of Europe, determined to be a hero.

Her brother had always been such an impressionable child – he took in every idea he came upon, and created his own ideas out of them, which at first had made sense, but with age had become more and more convoluted. The Countess blamed herself for not recognizing his illness in time – she should have known that this kind of behavior indicated that something was wrong. Her mother's illness had blinded her to the illness of her brother, because her mother had always been so volatile as opposed to her brother's quiet madness. She thought he had been doing well at his new home in New York when she got a hastily scribbled, incomprehensible letter from Austria which seemed to have been written by a stranger who was clearly not well, but written by the dearly familiar hand and expressing the ideas she knew her brother had espoused most of his life. After rushing to New York, she found out that her brother had left for Europe in a hurry several months earlier, clearly not himself. In his state of mind, she could not tell which warring side he would be likely to join, and where she could find him, but she knew that she had to find him. Her mother had been crushed by her brother's flight, and had lapsed into a prolonged fit, and after asking a family friend to take care of her and despite her friends' attempt to persuade her that Europe was no place for a young lady due to all the terrible things taking place there, the younger Countess made up her mind to try to find her beloved brother. Upon hastily preparing for a voyage and taking on an old friend as a companion, she arranged for a passage to England on the _Violet_, the ship she currently found herself on.

Hearing the rustling of a dress behind her, she turned around, smiling when she saw that her companion had finally woken up. The other woman was in many ways an opposite of her – she was taller, more solidly built and her hair was as light as her own was dark. They became friends in Savannah when the Wyszenski family moved there and enjoyed many years of friendship until Susan's marriage to an U.S. Army officer took her to the frontier, where Susan's husband, a brash young man whom she had loved dearly, got himself killed by the Indians after raiding an Indian village with his company. It was already three years since her husband's death, but her companion had shown no sign of wanting to let another man take the place of her husband. Ever since they encountered each other again at a soiree in New York a year before, the two women had been inseparable, the friendship that had been put on hold for five years resuming without a hitch.

"Are you feeling better, Abby?" the older woman asked, joining her friend at the railing and looking out at the sea. Abby sighed and absentmindedly tugged at a loose strand of her hair.  
  
"I feel better, Susan – my stomach has finally settled and I am ready to join you in the dining room again. But I could not sleep last night again. I was worried about him."  
  
"I am sure we will find him, my dear," the blonde woman said, patting the other woman's arm and smiling kindly at her.  
  
"Susan, he could be anywhere. You know Eryk – he has always been a free spirit, and now he has been infused by those dreadful French ideas in his madness. I do not understand what men seek in philosophy – it is but a dreadful waste of thinking-"

"-Perhaps we should have some breakfast," Susan interjected, knowing that the only way to stop her friend's tirades was to mention food. Abby immediately remembered that she was quite hungry, and the women retreated to the small cabin that served as a dining room to the ship's few wealthy passengers and ordered breakfast, which was prepared rapidly and presented to them by the ship's steward, Mr. Ferguson, a charming older gentleman who took it upon himself to know every single bit of news on the ship. After putting down the breakfast tray, the steward paused next to their table, looking somewhat conspiratorial.  
  
"I am glad that you are feeling better, Miss Lockhart," he started, and Abby thanked him, thinking that her health was not the reason he wanted to talk to them. She was immediately proven right when Mr. Ferguson discreetly whispered, "There is a young gentleman who wishes to make your acquaintance," and pointed in the direction of the before mentioned young gentleman with an innocuous wave of his hand. "What should I tell him, my ladies?"   
  
The two women looked at each other, and Abby opened her mouth, trying to say something when Susan's hand, carefully concealed from Mr. Ferguson's view, successfully brandished a hairpin.  
  
"Tell the gentleman we would be honored to meet him," Susan responded, ignoring Abby's scathing look as she rubbed her arm.  
  
Mr. Ferguson bowed slightly with a smile and hurried off to talk to the young man. They talked for a short while, and then the young man rose from his table and walked towards the table that two women occupied. As the young man neared them, the women examined him attentively, silently agreeing that he looked unquestionably intriguing. He approached the table and bowed slightly.  
  
"I hope I do not inconvenience you, ladies-"  
  
"Actually you-"" Abby was stabbed with a hairpin again and closed her mouth.  
  
"We'd be honored to meet you, Mister-"" Susan looked at Abby pointedly and then presented the man with her politest smile. Abby managed a bored smile for the sake of Susan, and tried to look interested. The man smiled and sat down on the chair Mr. Ferguson thoughtfully provided.

"Allow me to introduce myself – my name is John Carter."

"I am Susannah Lewis," Susan said, "and this is my friend, Barbara Lockhart, Countess Wyczenska."  
  
"It is great pleasure to meet you," the young man said pleasantly. "I have seen you earlier, but I have myself been somewhat under the weather, so I had no chance to make your acquaintance until today. Despite _Violet_'s quite tolerable accommodations, the company leaves quite a lot to wish for. You have had a chance to eat dinner with the Johnsons, I believe?"

Abby shuddered slightly. Martha and Ezekiel Johnson were plantation owners from South Carolina whose table and other manners left much to be desired for, and the two women did anything they could to avoid the two.

"We have had the pleasure," Abby replied, now more interested in the stranger. "It is also a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Carter. If I may ask, are you going to England on business or vacationing there? I have heard that it is a beautiful country. I have been there for a short time many years ago, but I remember little about it."

"Oh, madam, please call me Carter. I am actually going to visit my family - as hard as it would be to judge by my speech, I was born in London. My father has a plantation -" Carter grimaced slightly as he said the word, " - in Jonesborough, Tennessee, which belonged to my mother's parents, and I have lived most of my life there, except for the last couple of years, which I have spent in Cambridge, Massachusetts, studying medicine. I am myself much more of an American then an Englishman – I have been to the "old country" several times, but I prefer the wide plains of the United States to the dirty old towns of Britain. I am coming back to see my grandparents, who had expressed a wish to see me in their last letter, since I have not been to London ever since before I began my medical studies. And may I ask where you come from, Countess?"

"My family is from Poland – we left the country fifteen years ago when my father passed away. The Russians have made a dreadful mess of everything and my mother felt that it would be better for us to live in America for a while. And please, call me Abby." Noticing the slight confusion on Carter's face, Abby realized that he did not know the story behind her nickname and hastened to explain. "My mother calls me Basia, and when I met Susan she had the hardest time saying it-" After a chuckle from Susan, Abby explained further, "-well, she was ten and could not pronounce "s" at the time, so she just had began to call me Abby, and now all of my friends call me that."

"I prefer to be called by my last name because it often seems that every second man in our family is named John – it leads to a bit of confusion when the family gathers together."

"I could imagine," Susan said with a laugh. "In my family, all the men seem to be named Zechariah, so we have the same problem during the large family dinners."

"And how about you, Mrs. Lewis, where are you from?"

"I am from Savannah, born and raised there, except for the time I had spent with my late husband at Fort Dearborn, in the Territory of Illinois and two years in New York." Susan did not say anything further and the other two politely switched to another topic.

After the breakfast was finished and all possible conversation topics had been explored, Carter rose from the table to retire to his cabin because he was still feeling somewhat unwell.

"I hope to have the pleasure to dine with you later today, ladies. The journey now seems much less unpleasant than it did this morning, owing much to the present company." Carter bowed slightly and left the dining room, leaving the two women to discuss him over an apple tart provided by the helpful Mr. Ferguson.

"I certainly feel better knowing someone who has connections in London, Susan. Perhaps he could refer us to someone who could arrange our voyage to Europe," Abby said, taking another piece of the pastry from the plate and looking at it dreamily. "And - do you also feel that Mr. Carter is quite – pleasant-looking?"

"You are right about that, dear," Susan replied, also looking at her pastry with more fondness than a simple tart warranted. "Why don't we go back to our cabin and discuss young Mr. Carter some more?"

**_to be continued…_**


	2. Reunions

Chapter Two – "Reunions"

_Vienna, Austria, June 27, 1805_

The officer's club was abuzz with the news of the recent campaign plans, and although it was dominated by the multitude of Austrian officers of all kinds, small groups of British and Russian officers made their presence known as well. The Alliance against France was thought to be a marvelous idea, and young officers already saw themselves winning battles and capturing hearts of young ladies in their various hometowns, while older and more experienced officers were more skeptical, and discussed different strategies instead of engaging in imaginary victories. Officers were almost overwhelming the club, the doors of which seemed to be open all the time from the constant arrivals and departures. Just as a group of young officers got particularly rambunctious with their odes to their future victories, the door to the main room creaked open, and a man stepped inside, attracting a few curious glances due to his rather colorful appearance. His white coat, unlike those of his fellow officers, was frayed and almost gray from dirt, and instead of the usual belt, he wore a colorful but bedraggled scarf around his waist, to which his Turkish-style saber was attached. Whatever could be seen of his left sleeve, which was almost hidden by the sling supporting his arm, was splattered with blood, leaving no doubt that he had recently participated in a battle.

Taller and of a darker complexion then the other Austrian officers, the young man, a Grenz Captain by the name of Luka Kovac, was from the border of the Empire, and had quickly risen through the ranks when he joined the army several years earlier. His company had been very nearly obliterated in an attack at the Military Border several weeks earlier, and after the death of the Major who had been in charge of the scouting mission during which the company was ambushed, the majority of the men in the company survived largely due to the bravery of Captain Kovac, who took charge of the troops and continued fighting despite being wounded until the enemy fled. He did not deem his wound serious enough to stay off his feet for long and declared himself fit for battle somewhat prematurely, but his superiors thought otherwise and had put him on a temporary leave from active duty. Since he dreaded being inactive while he was recuperating from the wound (which he finally did acknowledge to be serious enough to warrant the leave), he volunteered to take some important papers to the capital, where he would also have a chance to get his shoulder looked at by a better doctor.

The Captain had decided to stop by the officer's club to see if some of his friends were present, and if he encountered any, ask them if he could lodge with one of them during his stay. He found an empty table in the corner and sat down, feeling slightly dizzy from the long ride on a coach over bad roads, which had not done his shoulder any good. A waiter brought him a glass of wine, and Captain Kovac gratefully accepted it. He sipped the wine and observed the other officers, smiling darkly as he heard some of the young men extol their future bravery at war. An officer who at first passed by his table stopped and turned around to take a better look at him, and the Captain recognized his friend and fellow Captain Dragomir Meinl, whose mother was from the same town as the majority of his own family on the father's side and whom he was quite glad to see.

"Luka - you're okay!" his friend exclaimed in their native language, and sat down at the table.

"Obviously I am, my dear friend," Luka countered, shaking his friend's hand. "Where have you heard otherwise?"

"I heard about the ambush – and I have been told that you have been badly injured, although I did not hear how."

"It is not bad – just a scrape."

Dragomir took a good look at other man's tattered sleeve and raised an eyebrow.

"It does look somewhat worse than a scrape to me, but I will take your word for now. So, what are you doing in the capital? I thought you would be in Stubinske Toplice, resting and recuperating at your grandmother's house."

"I tried, but I was ready to jump out of the window after one day, so I asked Colonel Szelenyi to send me to Vienna – since I will be on leave from active duty for at least another month or so, I at least wanted to rest in a place where there would be some people below my grandmother's age. He had some papers that needed to be sent to various people in the capital, so he was delighted to accomplish two things at once, and sent me here with a heap of papers and strict orders to recuperate for as long as I need."

"Well, I will definitely assist you in recuperating, along with my friends – right after we catch up on the last three years. Come on, let us get out of here and have some dinner at my house. You are also welcome to lodge with me. Ah, and Mother will be delighted to see you – she has always had a weak spot for you, you scoundrel…" The two men rose from the table and began to walk towards the door when a man in a British uniform, who was also trying to leave, attempted to brush past them and collided with Luka, who could barely contain a groan as the pain in his shoulder awoke with a vengeance.

"Sorry," the British man muttered in a heavily accented German and Luka momentarily forgot about his shoulder, stunned to hear the familiar voice. The British officer looked similarly surprised, and extended a hand to Luka, who did not accept it. The officer quirked an eyebrow and withdrew his hand.

"Interesting to meet you here, Lieutenant," the Englishman said, switching to English.

"Captain," Luka corrected tersely, glaring at the other man. "Interesting to meet you here too, Major Ross."

"Well, what can I say, it is a small world. I will be sure to mention running into you to my wife - she would definitely want to see you. I must hurry now - I should have been at the Consul's residence half an hour ago. Goodbye – Captain."

Dragomir, who had understood some of the exchange, watched the door close behind the Englishman and turned around to ask his friend how he knew the man. As he caught sight of Luka, he knew that this question would have to wait, because his friend was pale and barely standing up straight, clutching his wounded shoulder with his right hand. Dragomir sighed, muttered something about "God-damned imprudent oversimplifying idiots" under his breath and caught his friend just as he started to collapse.

Fifteen minutes later, Luka regained consciousness and found himself lying on an ottoman in one of the club's back rooms, with Dragomir and a unfamiliar bespectacled man looking down at him concernedly.

"What happened?" he muttered, sitting up slowly and discovering that someone had taken off his coat and shirt while he had been unconscious and that his shoulder had acquired a new bandage at the same time.

"You fainted," Dragomir stated irately.

"I did not faint-"

"Captain, your friend told me that you had a 'scrape' when I was informed that you were ill, but I would hardly call your wound a scrape," the stranger interrupted, looking at him sternly. When he saw confusion on Luka's face, he hastened to introduce himself. "I am Doctor Morgenstern – my practice is just next door to the club, and your friend sent someone to fetch me immediately after you fainted."

Luka resigned himself to being accused of something that sounded like it was done by women rather then men and tried to move his left hand, admitting to himself that he indeed was quite prone to oversimplifying.

"Your 'scrape' began to bleed slightly when you ran into that gentleman earlier," the doctor informed him. "Whoever has taken care of the wound at first did a good job for the beginning, but you need some better treatment if you want to regain full use of it soon and to avoid residual pain. How long has it been since you were wounded?

"About three weeks," Luka admitted, not liking the direction the conversation was heading in. He was right, because the doctor began to look annoyed once again and he did not even dare to look at Dragomir.

"Any sane man with a wound like yours would be resting at home and not gallivanting around the Empire," Morgenstern said, looking at his nervous patient somberly. "May I ask you how you got the wound?" His patient once again eyed his shirt, which lay on a chair nearby, then attempted to visually locate the door, subsequently discovering an infuriated friend in front of it, and resigned himself to answering the question.

"I was wounded the attack on my regiment, but it was noth-"

Dragomir interrupted him this time, looking even angrier then before.

"Luka, you forget that I have known you for many years, and I know that you cannot lie convincingly. While Dr. Morgenstern was taking a look at your shoulder, I ran into someone whose cousin is in your regiment. You know Franjo Bajuk, don't you?"

Luka decided to remain silent and nodded weakly. Lieutenant Bajuk was his second-in-command, so he could not really deny knowing him.

"Well, our mutual friend, Tomislav Bajuk, whom I trust you know quite well, told me that when he was leaving Zagreb a week and a half ago he spoke to his cousin, who told him all kinds of interesting stories, including one about the recent ambush on the border in which a certain Captain almost got run through with a saber. Does this fellow sound like anyone you know?"

Luka nodded again and tried to look repentant, so Dragomir decided to take mercy on his friend, and helped him to put on his shirt and coat. After that, he allowed Dr. Morgenstern to take over, even though his friend looked somewhat afraid of the doctor. The physician checked Luka's pulse, determined that Luka was indeed feeling better, and declared him fit to leave. Luka thanked Morgenstern and allowed his friend to help him to stand up, finally admitting to himself that he was undeniably still feeling quite faint. They were almost out of the door when Morgenstern caught up with them.

"Captain, when you have time, come by my practice. I want to take a better look at your shoulder and perhaps suggest some treatment," the doctor said, directing another stern look at the patient, hoping that he had scared this particular patient into taking better care of himself. "And take it easy – be sure to rest a lot this week."

Luka thanked the doctor, still feeling apprehensive about the man, and before long he and Dragomir were in a carriage heading for the latter's house. The short ride was passed in silence, with Dragomir thinking of ways to make his friend rest and wondering about the Englishman, and with Luka thinking about how comfortable the carriage was compared to the one he rode in on his way to Vienna.

Soon, the carriage stopped, and the men exited it, proceeding into the Meinl family mansion. Dragomir's mother was waiting for them in the foyer, already notified of the young Captain's arrival, clapping her hands in shock when she saw Luka.

"Dear boy, what has happened to you?" she exclaimed, taking in his disheveled state. "Come on, sit down." Luka sat down in a chair, tolerantly endured Danica Meinl's fussing over the "poor dear" who had "gotten himself a little bit hurt" and thought that Dragomir looked too smug for his own good.

Several minutes later, Danica stopped her laments, for which her son was perhaps slightly thankful, because he was about to be kicked very hard by his frantically smiling friend. She rang for the servants, several of which appeared shortly, and instructed them to prepare a room, heat up some water and prepare some of the young master's clothes for the guest. As the servants went off to do their tasks, Danica asked the two young men to follow her to the dining room. Luka was not very hungry, so after eating a bit, he answered Danica's questions about life in her hometown and in the country. After Danica had extracted all of the news about her relations and the goings on in Zagreb from her guest, the two men went upstairs. Luka could not help but feel happy at the thought of clean clothes and hot water – his journey had been long and dusty, and the last bath he took had been somewhat cold, if not downright icy. Gazing at the large tub of steaming water with longing, he noticed his friend watching him anxiously and looked at him pointedly.

"Dragomir, I assure you, I will not drown in a tub. Now out with you." Dragomir left, still not appearing confident that his friend would not drown in a couple of inches of water. Luka quickly got rid of his dusty uniform and after carefully taking his bandage off, sank into the warm water with a sigh of bliss.

When the water started to cool down, he finally recalled the original purpose of being in it and washed off the layers of the dirt that seemed to have accumulated on his face and body during the last couple of days. After deeming himself to be almost as good as new, he stepped out of the tub and looked around for a towel. Just as he had spotted it, the door to the room slammed open and one of the servants that he had seen earlier that evening burst in with a bundle of clothes, laughing merrily. For a moment, both Luka and the servant froze, and then the servant's eyes widened and she almost dropped the clothes she was holding. Luka finally remembered about the towel and grabbed it, wrapping it around himself.

"Here are some clothes of the young master that mistress thought would fit you… sir… Captain…" the servant muttered, her eyes still fixed on him. After he nervously cleared his throat, she seemed to come out of her trance, put the clothes down on a dresser, giggled, and after curtseying, ran out again, closing the door behind her. Luka stood still for a moment, a bit perplexed by what had just went on, and thinking that he should have remembered to lock the door – the Meinl family always seemed to hire the most peculiar people they could find. A sound of distant giggling was heard, and he decided to get dressed before the strange servant woman had a chance to make another appearance.

After re-bandaging his shoulder, dressing himself in the borrowed clothes, and thanking whatever higher power there was that he was lodging with a friend of a similar build and height, he proceeded to Dragomir's study, where his friend was lying on a chair and blowing smoke at the ceiling. Luka sat down on another chair and for a while, just watched the little clouds of smoke floating around the room. He knew that his friend had something on his mind, and he could bet that he had a pretty good idea what his first question would be. He was once again proven right when Dragomir stopped smoking his pipe, and turned around to look at him.

"So, who was that Englishman at the club?"

Luka was silent for a moment, trying to think of a good answer to that question.

"Do you remember Karola Varenica?" he finally said, knowing full well that Dragomir did.

"Of course."

"She is Ross's wife."

Dragomir just stared at him as if he had just told him that he had grown wings.

"How did that happen?" he finally said. "I've been away for too long in the capital, that's for sure."

"Well, Major Ross enjoys traveling, and just after you left for the capital three years ago, he arrived into town, so of course all of the unmarried society women had to go and admire the charming Englishman." Luka scowled and muttered a swearword under his breath. "Karola was the one he liked the best. Just my luck - every woman I like is stolen away from me by some ostentatious twit." Realizing that he had said more then he wanted, he forced himself to smile despite feeling quite dejected, and decided to change the topic.

"So, my friend, can you answer a question that I have been pondering for a long time – why does your family always hire such odd servants?"

**Historical A/N: **The Grenz were a kind of militia/light infantry who defended the Military Border (Vojinska Krajina) between Austria-Hungary and the Ottoman Empire, and were largely made up of Croats and Serbs, as far as I remember. In 1805, most of Croatia was part of the Hungarian portion of the Empire.   
**Linguistic A/N: **The language spoken in the Viennese chapters is supposed to be German, so just imagine that everyone speaks it, unless I indicate that English or another language is spoken or it is a conversation between Anglophones.   
**Shout-out A/N: **Naomi, I did promise you a dance with a certain Tall, Dark and Handsome man, but I decided to humor you twice since you encouraged me write this fic, so you get a cameo in this chapter. One guess to who she is… And a shout-out to my friend Nikola from Vukovar, whose last name I borrowed for AU Carol, and who still owes me a Ukrainian meal.  
**Random A/Ns: **Some of you might recognize Dragomir (Drago) from my other fics, "Contradictions" and "Of Memories Past." Also, feel free to point out any time inconsistencies – I am mostly guessing the time it takes to cover a certain distance since I am far from my beloved Internet most of the time, and it since was 115 F° here in Morocco earlier this week, my brain melted down. For those who don't know, which is most of the readers, on July 14 I am going to travel across 2 continents and 5 countries in 24 hours – Morocco to Czech Republic via Belgium by plane, then Czech Republic to Hungary via Slovakia by train. And two days later, I am flying to Croatia…


End file.
